Wither Away
by Canadian Erect Mountie
Summary: These are not happy stories. At least one will stir emotion deep within your gut. One might make you cry. All are guaranteed to be unhappy. After all- anorexia, rape, cutting, abuse, overexhaustion, blood- does that sound happy to you, friend?
1. USUK

Wither Away

**A/N: Yo guys, I was trolling around my documents and found this. Made some edits, and wala. I'm quite pleased with how it came out.**

**Disclaimer: I don't effing own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Deals with anorexia, self-harm, and swearing. Oh, and gayness. Yaoi. Slash. Whatever you mofos want to call it. Idgaf.**

First draft started June 6th, 2012

Finished August 22nd, 2012

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

Two words sparked something inside of him.

"You fat-ass, aru." muttered Yao in disgust when Alfred kept rambling on about his beloved hamburgers.

Normally Alfred would laugh it off and say, "The hero's ass is supple, not fat!" and he did, much to no one's amusement.

But, then it happened again in Geography. "Like, seriously Alfred, you like, totally need to keep the food out of your head." Feliks sniffed, seeing the little milkshakes and fries Alfred had been doodling in his notebook. He deflated a little and put the notebook away.

At lunch he eyed his burger thoughtfully. Normally, he would have eaten about four of them by now, but today was not a normal day.

Matthew swallowed a bit of his drink. He raised an eyebrow at his oddly silent twin warily. "Is everything alright, Al?" he asked in his usually quiet voice.

Alfred, for once, heard him. "Huh? Oh yeah, Mattie, just fine." He said, flashing a bright (fake, noted Matthew) smile.

'_He has great acting skills,' _thought the confused Canadian, _'but why is he using them?'_

Everyone at the table ceased conversation and stared as Alfred abruptly stood up and dumped his uneaten burger in the trash. He left the cafeteria, hands in his pockets, without looking back.

Francis turned to Arthur, just as confused as everyone else (who bothered to care, anyway.) "But he loves his hamburgers, non? Perhaps he has decided to sop being such a glutton!" he scoffed.

Arthur felt a weird twisting sensation in his gut but smacked Francis anyway. "Mind your own business, frog." he said.

However, no one could mistake the concern in his tone.

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Alfred scuffed his Sketchers against the curb of the sidewalk as he walked home alone.

'_Another day, another hoard of insults.' _he thought dejectedly. This time one had been "Argh, _dummkopf! _It's not zhat difficult to understand!" from a frustrated Ludwig in biology. He had only been messing with the German when he kept repeating the same question over and over.

He thought, afterwards, _'He's right. I am an idiot.' _Why did he have to do that? Ludwig had been trying to help him and he just acted like he didn't even care. Then to show he did (not that it went noticed by Ludwig, who was dragged away by Feliciano after school) he stayed after for extra help on the subject.

Matthew had eyed him worriedly. However, he only said, "Good for you, Alfred." and went on his way.

Reaching into his pocket, Alfred found his house key wasn't there. Groaning, he reached out to knock on the door when he paused. No one would be home yet, Mom and Dad were at work, and Mattie-

Oh. Mattie was home.

Alfred wanted to curl up into a ball and cease to exist. He couldn't even remember his brother. They had shared a womb for nine months, and he couldn't remember his own brother. He decided he didn't deserve to interrupt Matthew from whatever he was doing, probably homework, so he shrugged off his jacket and backpack before pulling out a notepad.

_Hey Mattie-_

_I need to go for a walk. You can leave my backpack outside, dude. Tell Kumajirou I left him some fish in Area 48. He'll know what that means._

_-Alfred F. Jones._

He had almost written "The hero" in there before comments made their way into the front of his mind. They had almost always gone in one ear and out the other, but now the memories rang in his head as clear as day.

"Alfred, stop it with the hero nonsense!"

"Shut up, aru!"

"Arfred-kun, prease be quiet."

Okay, so the last one had been more of a polite request than anything, but it still implied the same thing: everyone hated him.

Well, _he _didn't!

…Right?

The American stood up and pasted the note to the door with a smiley sticker. He _didn't _see why people hated him.

'_Oh, sure you don't.' _said a nasty little voice in his head. Alfred took off at a brisk pace down his street.

'_You're fat, stupid, ugly, and your ego inflates your already thick skull! You can't hold a conversation without bragging about how 'heroic' you are, even though you've never done anything remotely heroic in your entire life!'_

'_That's not true!' _he protested- against himself? _'There was that one time I-'_

But his mind drew a blank, and the little evil Alfred laughed.

He found himself sitting on a bench in a nearby park for a long time, deep in thought about doubting himself. There was a slight sound to his left and a person sat next to him, which he didn't entirely notice until they spoke.

"Hello, Alfred." said a very familiar voice.

He looked up, surprised. There was Arthur. "Oh, hey man." He glanced up; shocked when he saw the sun had set long ago. He shivered, and for the first time he realized how cold he was without his beloved bomber jacket.

Which was still on the porch at home…

Speaking of which, his parents were probably having a heart attack right now, wondering where on earth he was, while Matthew tried to calm them down.

However, it would be rude of him to just get up and leave Arthur.

His body was suddenly incased in warmth and he looked up at the Briton again in surprise. Arthur just shrugged, stood up, and extended his hand.

'_No one could ever look as perfect as him,' _marveled Alfred, accepting the hand.

"I'll walk you home." said Arthur.

Al just nodded.

They walked in silence, the only sound being their footsteps against the pavement and the distant rumble of the highway. Arthur peered at Alfred out of the corner of his eye. There seemed to be something on his mind, but if he wanted to talk about it, he certainly would have done so by now.

Wanting to start a conversation anyway, he said, "So, why were you half-frozen on a park bench at eight o'clock at night?"

Alfred sighed and shrugged, pulling Arthur's jacket closer around his shoulders. He inhaled unconsciously, breathing in the calming scent of Earl Grey tea.

"I was just going out for a walk and lost track of time." he said.

Arthur raised one oversized eyebrow. "Oh? And how long were you sitting there?"

Alfred scratched the back of his head, thinking. "I dunno. I got home at around four." he said. Arthur looked up at him in surprise.

They turned onto the American's street. When they walked up the steps, Alfred saw that his jacket, backpack, and note were gone. He shook off Arthur's coat a bit reluctantly.

"Thanks for walking me, Artie." Alfred said in false cheeriness, which Arthur noticed.

Too worried to correct the American, he merely bid his farewell and went on his way. Hopefully Alfred would snap out of this phase of his soon.

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Alfred shut the door quietly behind him and turned around to face his mother. She cleared her throat as he began walking up the stairs.

"Where have you been, mister?"

He paused. "Out and about."

She sighed; the tone of his voice told her that he wasn't going to elaborate. "Alright, just- keep your cell phone on you next time."

He nodded. "Night, mom." he said.

"Good night, honey."

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One morning, Alfred woke up positively ravenous. His mouth watered at the scent of pancakes. He jumped out of bed, a huge grin on his face, before he remembered why he was so hungry in the first place. Memories again flooded his mind.

"Fat."

"Ugly."

"Stupid."

"CAN'T YOU DO _ANYTHING _RIGHT?!"

And the truth was he couldn't.

Suddenly losing his appetite, Alfred sat back down on his bed. The shout of, "PANCAKES!" died on his tongue. He didn't deserve to eat.

When Matthew came into Alfred's room ten minutes later, the latter was lying on his bed in his boxers, hand behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

"Al? Are you going to eat something and get dressed?" he asked softly.

"Mmm? Nah, I don't feel so good today, Mattie, I'm not going to school." he murmured.

The Canadian blinked. "Oh, alright. Feel better, eh? We have a test tomorrow." he said.

Alfred just gave a noncommittal grunt and went back to his self-loathing.

As Matthew shut the door behind him he thought, _'He really doesn't look that great. I hope he gets better soon.'_

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Arthur tapped his foot anxiously, mentally begging the bell to hurry up. After seeing Alfred's twin brother arrive at school alone, his mind had switched into overprotective mother mode. He had to confront- oh, what was his name? Marcus? Malcolm? Matt? Ah, yes, Matthew.

He needed to know where Alfred was, and WHY THIS BLOODY BELL WAS MOVING SO SLOWLY.

=BEEEEP=

"Finally," muttered Arthur, putting his stuff away and making his way to the cafeteria. It took a minute to actually locate the Canadian- he was just so hard to spot! - and found him in the middle of the Bad Touch Trio, blushing furiously. They all appeared to be fighting around him- oh, no.

Actually, Francis was trying to grope him, Gilbert was flirting with him, and Antonio was reaching over him to grab a tomato for Lovino.

"Matthew," he stated uncertainly.

"Oh, hey Arthur!" The Canadian looked quite relieved to see him, and pried Francis' wandering hands off his chest and thigh.

"Look, if you're wondering where Alfred is, he's at home, sick or something."

"Sick?" echoed Arthur. Alfred came to school every day if he could, except the rare occasion when he got really sick and his mother had to physically force him into bed. So it must be pretty bad, he fretted.

"Well, he looked all pale and he had circled under his eyes. He hasn't been acting right lately, either." said Matthew.

Arthur released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Oh. Alright, then. If he's feeling better later, tell him I'll be dropping off his homework for him.

The both knew very well that Matthew could have gotten Alfred's homework for him, but eh, whatever.

"Alright- yes, Gilbert, I do know why the Gilbird crossed the road."

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Arthur knocked on the door of the Jones' house. Matthew answered it. "Come in, Arthur. Al's feeling alright, if you want to go up." he said. Arthur nodded and made his way up to Alfred's room, knocking on the door.

"Come on in." muttered a voice. The Brit did so.

'_Okay, this is NOT Alfred's room,' _was his first thought. It was… tidy. There were no random articles of clothing strewn about. The pictures and posters adorning the walls were straight.

The boy on the bed… wasn't Alfred, but it undoubtedly was. "Hello." said Arthur.

The American looked up, his normally electric blue eyes dull. "Hey, Artie."

The Brit cleared his throat, awkward in his best friend's presence. "I brought you your homework." he said. _'Lame.' _he thought. He placed the papers neatly down on Alfred's organized desk.

"Thanks dude. You can sit, if you want." He gestured to the clear chair.

"How are you feeling, Al?" asked Arthur softly.

The former waved his hand dismissively and managed an insincere half-smile. "I've got a headache, nothing bad, really-"

"No, I meant emotionally." interrupted Arthur.

When he was greeted with silence he went on. "Lately you've been quieter, eating less, thinking, and cut the bull, we know there's nothing physically wrong with you today. Your brother knows, too. Not to mention the fact you haven't mentioned how heroic you are once in the past week."

Had it really been a week? Alfred couldn't remember the past few days; hadn't he walked home with Arthur from the park only yesterday? "Artie, what day is it today?" he asked suddenly.

Arthur, surprised by this abrupt and completely off-topic question, blinked. "Thursday. Why?" he asked.

Alfred counted back. It had been a Monday he decided all his imperfections needed to be put to rest. Where _had _he been this past week?

Noting Alfred spacing out- finally, something normal- Arthur snapped his fingers, jerking the American out of his daze.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine Artie, calm your tits. The hero's always fine!" he said.

'_Well, that certainly is more like it.' _thought Arthur. But something seemed… off. The smile didn't entirely reach his eyes and his cheeriness was forced.

"Al, remember there are always people who care a lot about you. You know you can tell me anything." said Arthur gently, placing his hand on Alfred's ankle.

Alfred sighed and removed Texas. He rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, I know Artie. Thanks again for bringing my homework." _'If I ever get around to doing it,' _he thought dully.

Arthur got up, pat Alfred's leg, and went to leave the room. He paused in the doorframe. "I do care for you Alfred, I really do." he said softly, before leaving.

A single tear rolled down Al's face. "Don't lie, dude." he whispered.

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

Alfred whimpered inaudibly and clutched his stomach. He glanced at the clock. Eleven minutes until lunch time; his of which consisting of a granola bar. Even that much was a lot for him lately.

'_How pathetic are you? Can't even go three days without food?' _taunted the little voice in his head. That controlling voice that he HAD to listen to or he would get fat again. Horribly, disgustingly fat.

He needed to reach his version of perfection. He owed it to the people around him- the people that supposedly cared for him- to be perfect.

He discreetly threw the granola bar in the trash as the bell rang and made his way to the cafeteria. He sat down at the usually table, silent yet again. No one else had been quite right since Alfred first 'recognized' their 'criticism.'

"Ve~ Alfred, aren't you going to eat anything?" Feliciano asked innocently from between Ludwig and Kiku. Alfred laughed and scratched the back of his head. "I forgot to pre-pay for lunch this week." The little voice in his head praised him for this fast excuse.

"You don't always have to pre-pay, aru. Here, I'll lend you some-" began Yao.

Alfred snapped his fingers and sat up, rummaging through his pocket for something. A minute later he pulled out a fat envelope. He handed it to Yao with a tired smile. "Here's that cash I owe you from that one time…" he trailed off.

Yao numbly took it, surprised. He honestly thought he'd never get that money. "Thanks, Alfred."

Alfred flashed a genuine smile, and the table relaxed a bit.

Arthur knew deep in his gut that something was wrong.

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

Alfred turned his test over automatically. _'After all that work, and just a B+,' _he thought bitterly.

Arthur was confused. "Alfred, that's an excellent grade!" he said encouragingly.

The American sighed. "Oh well, I'll just do better next time."

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

He knew he'd have to eat less and work harder. He had been studying nonstop, doing almost nothing else day after day after school.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones were becoming increasingly worried by Alfred's solitude. He hardly ever came down for meals and when he did he never ate anything.

He was definitely losing weight, but kept his bomber jacket on at all times until he reached perfection. What that was, he wasn't sure of yet, but he would know when he got there.

The little voice in his head was praising and critical, helpful and patronizing. "Don't tell, never tell." Was that number one rule, never to be broken. On some level Alfred knew others would disapprove of what he was doing to himself, but the voice merely scoffed when he thought about it.

'_They would just be jealous of you Alfred, jealous of what we have. You're going to be perfect and they won't. You are going to make them wish they were you.'_

Because Alfred kept that same jacket on at all times, no one noticed his extreme weight loss yet.

'_At least they don't call me fat and a pig anymore,' _he thought.

'_It's not enough! They must compliment you, must worship your body!' _scolded the voice.

So Alfred kicked up his already intense exercising. He would not come out of this a twig, he would be strong.

In gym the next day, he was happy to find his shorts were much too large. He glanced up at Yao. He really didn't want to do this, but…

"Hey, man, got an extra pair of shorts I can borrow?" he asked sheepishly.

Yao blinked. He looked down and, indeed, Alfred's shorts were falling off his hips. "Yeah, here aru." the petite Chinese boy passed over a red pair of shorts.

"Thanks, I'll bring them home and wash them." said Alfred, slipping them on. They fit nicely.

Yao blinked again. "You really don't have to-"

"But I want to." interrupted Alfred. _'No need to pass on my filth.'_

He studied the American for a moment. "Alright, whatever."

They headed to the gym together. Alfred was positively ecstatic at his high quality performance in their dodge ball game. He permitted himself to act almost normal again, cheering when he hit people, and cheering others when they hit people, too.

Ludwig threw a quick snake-eyes in Alfred's direction and he reached out to catch it when he was hit with a wave of dizziness and stumbled, the ball hitting him right in the crotch.

There were a few "Ooh, that's got to hurt." from both sides, and even Ludwig himself looked a bit sheepish.

Alfred paid them no heed and sank to his knees, half in pain (I mean seriously, a rubber dodge ball thrown by a burly German right in the vital regions? Come on.) and half because his world was spinning violently.

Why was his vision so fuzzy? Was the floor supposed to tilt at this angle towards his face?

He heard something that distinctly sounded like "Alfred, can you hear me?"

He was so tired… so very, very sleepy… The world around him was warm, like blood.

"Al?"

But blood was red, and this was black darkness.

"Alfred-"

"Someone get the nurse!"

Why was everything so heavy?

"Oh my god-"

"Call 911!"

"No, he'll be alright- get water-"

There was a dark abyss at the very edge of his consciousness and he was suddenly terrified he'd fall into it. Float towards the fog, the murkiness- better to feel nothing than to be nothing-

Something moved his body- which he felt oddly detached from, and didn't know if he liked it or not- and water was suddenly tossed on his face.

Alfred was pulled out of the darkness so abruptly it left him reeling. He sputtered and coughed, trying to sit up, unable to see it hurts make it stop no no no-

"Easy there, Jones." said Coach Hedervary. He blinked a few times, waiting for his vision to come back into focus. Someone handed him his glasses and he took them gratefully. A small crowd had formed around him.

He immediately felt defensive. All their eyes were boring into him, judging him, hating him- the whispers were suddenly all he could hear, he was drowning in all of this-

"Can you stand up?" asked the coach, interrupting his train of thought. Alfred nodded and shakily got to his feet.

"What are you all staring at?" he snapped. They all quickly backed up, wide-eyed, unused to Alfred's scowl.

"Go to the nurse and lay down for a bit." said Coach Hedervary. Alfred nodded but stumbled a bit on his way to the door. "Kirkland, go with him- make sure he doesn't pass out on the way." she ordered, tapping said Brit on the shoulder. Arthur had the strange image of a frying pan fly through his mind and hurried after Alfred, just in case that frying pan happened to be real or something.

Arthur went up to the American and draped his arm around himself. "What happened in there, Alfred?" he demanded.

He wasn't entirely coherent yet and just shrugged. "Let's see what the nurse says."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Arthur helped Alfred through the door and lay down on a nearby cot. The nurse asked Arthur to step aside after having them tell her what happened.

A few minutes later she came out and smiled at Arthur. "He'll be alright, Mr. Kirkland. He must have just gotten dehydrated or something. Would you mind telling his brother what happened? He's passed out." she said.

Arthur nodded. "Of course." Just as he turned to leave, a voice called from the cot, "Thanks, Artie."

He turned to Alfred and smiled gently; it faded when he really took in Alfred's appearance.

He was smiling but it didn't reach his eyes, which had dark circles under them. His normally pleasantly plump cheekbones were sharp and angular, as were his shoulders. His hair and eyes had lost their shine; Nantucket looked flat. Not to mention his skin was so pale, it had completely lost its golden tan.

"Alfred, are you sure you'll be alright?" he asked softly.

He scoffed. "Arthur, the hero's always fine, you should know that by now." He laughed. Arthur noted that his eyes were guarded.

Alfred saw his skeptical expression and sighed. "Look, Artie, if there was something wrong with me, I would let you know, kay?"

Arthur nodded hesitantly. "Goodbye, Alfred."

"Bye, Iggy!" he called.

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

Alfred groaned, clutching his stomach in agony. He was so hungry…

In a way, he was proud of himself for having so much self-control and willpower. Never had he gone so long without eating. His abdomen growled weakly for food, make it stop stop stop…

It never occurred to him there was such a thing as too much restraint, that eventually, something was bound to explode.

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

He returned the clean shorts to Yao on Monday. Of course, by then, Arthur had all the rumors straightened out- another thing he had to be grateful to the Brit for.

Yao looked very disgruntled- he, too, had began to look at Alfred more closely- and he didn't like what he saw. "Thank you, aru."

"No prob." grinned Alfred, his pale skin stretching unflatteringly over his pointy cheeks.

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

Kiku knocked on Alfred's door, and the sound of "I'm cleaning!" "Playing video games!" and "Studying!" came from inside.

Finally there was an exasperated sigh and Mrs. Jones opened the door. "Oh, hello Kiku! You're here right on time. Alfred's upstairs, I'll go get him- please do come in-" she rambled, herding the small Japanese boy inside.

"Thank you." He said. Alfred came downstairs a moment later. "Yo, Kiku, my man! Brought those new video game demos?"

Kiku blinked. This was… fake, somehow. "I'm good, Alfred-san. And you?" he asked politely.

He shrugged. "I'm awesome, the hero is always awesome!"

They both knew it wasn't true.

"Not as awesome as Gilbert," mumbled Matthew, walking past Alfred to the kitchen. Alfred frowned.

"Stay away from him, Mattie." he said sharply. Mrs. Jones frowned.

"Now now, Al. Your brother has to make his own decisions." She said, smacking him on the bottom with a towel.

"Would you like to play the games now?" Kiku asked timidly, holding up his demos. Alfred nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!"

Matthew came back with some chips. "Hey, Kiku, got three-player on those?" he asked.

Kiku nodded. "Want to play?"

Matthew shrugged. "Sure."

Alfred fist-pumped the air. "Aw, yeah! Prepare to be beaten, Mattie! HAHAHAHA!"

The Canadian rolled his eyes and followed his twin into the living room, Kiku following him.

*Six hours later*

"Ha ha! Maybe next time you guys will be able to beat the awesome heroic me!" laughed Alfred as he led Kiku to the door.

Kiku smiled faintly. "Hai, maybe. Good bye, Matthew-san, Alfred-san!" he said, leaving. As he walked home, he thought about what had happened. He had been more focused on watching Alfred than the game. Something was wrong with his friend, and it hurt him to not know what it was.

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Alfred had trouble moving the next day. He got up and staggered to the bathroom. His stomach felt awful and he dry heaved for a few minutes. All that came up were some cheese bits and stomach acid.

When Matthew came up to check on Alfred he immediately rushed to his brother's side.

"Alfred? Are you alright?" he said, panicking slightly.

"Mattie?" he murmured.

"Yes, it's me- can you walk? We need to get you to bed-"

Alfred staggered to his feet, leaning almost all of his weight on his twin.

'_He's so light,' _thought Matthew, surprised.

"Mattie?" he mumbled as they slowly made their way to the bedroom.

"Yeah, Al?"

"I don't…"

Matthew was really starting to freak out, Alfred's eyes were half-closed and he seemed to be struggling to stay awake. "Alfred? Alfred, listen to me. I need you to stay awake- whatever you do, do not fall asleep, okay? You need to stay awake." he said desperately, hoisting Al up on his feet yet again.

"I… I don't think I can, Mattie…

"Mattie, ever noticed fat how am I?"

"What?" said Matthew, confused. Alfred's words… were out of order? _'Not good,' _he thought. They reached the bedroom and Matthew lowered his brother down onto the bed.

"I'm fat, Mattie, but now I'm pretty, right?" he giggled feebly.

Matthew felt his blood run cold. Everything fell into place then.

The change of attitude. The solitude. Alfred's refusal to eat in front of anyone- he had never been eating at all, had he? The change in appearance, his desire to do better in school, him passing out in gym class- and now this.

"Oh my God," muttered the Canadian, horrified. How had he not noticed this earlier?

"Hmm? Hey Matt, I don't feel so good."

"It's okay, Al, everything's going to be alright, just stay here, and please, don't fall asleep!" begged Matthew, standing up.

Alfred began to cough violently and Matt was back at his side in an instant, holding him close until the fit subsided. He was even more freaked out when Alfred's elbow came away with blood and more mucus on it.

"Okay Mattie… the hero can do anything…"

He got up and ran downstairs, screaming all the while, "DAD! MOM! QUICKLY, CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

Mr. Jones looked up from his newspaper in alarm and Mrs. Jones rushed into the room, eyes wide. "What? What happened? Adam?" she demanded, looking to her husband, who shrugged.

"It's- it's Alfred! I went into the bathroom this morning- and he was there- and now he's coughing- blood- oh my FUCKING GOD!" he wailed, not able to get the words out, too distressed was he.

His parents didn't need an explanation at this point. They hurtled up past Matthew and slammed Alfred's door open. He was lying exactly as Matthew left him, eyes closed, perfectly still- _and he wasn't breathing._

Mrs. Jones screamed and fainted. Her husband caught her. "Amelia! Shit- Matthew, take your mother somewhere out of the way- give me your phone!" he said desperately, handing Amelia off to his son, who had calmed down a bit and was in shock at the sight of Alfred.

"Y-yes, of course!" he said, dragging his mother to her bedroom and then tossing his cell phone to Adam.

"Do CPR on your brother!" he barked, furiously pounding 911 into the phone. Matthew took a deep steady breath and sprinted over to Alfred, ripping off his shirt. He tried to remember his training at that health course he took over the summer.

"Matt, come on now, remember this- check for a pulse!" He pressed two fingers to Alfred's neck- and it was there, fluttery and weak, but there.

Meanwhile, Adam was yelling into the phone, demanding they get here as soon as possible.

"My son is lying on his bed, not moving, not even breathing- yes, we have a certified CPR person working on him- his brother Matthew- I'm his father-"

Alfred still wasn't breathing.

XoxoLine BreakoxoX

"He'll wake up soon." Was probably the only part of the doctor's speech Arthur and Matthew heard.

"Can we visit him?" asked Mr. Jones. Dr. Bondevik nodded, a small amount of sympathy appearing on his stoic face.

"Your son is most likely anorexic, sir."

Words like "therapy" and "family sessions" were heard and they merely floated in one end and out the other. No one wanted to be reminded of their awful mistake.

Matthew glanced at Arthur. The Brit had been silent ever since he told him that Alfred was, in fact, alive.

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. He should have known, should have read the signs and acted upon them- but since Alfred failed to notice his problem, perhaps the feeling was mutual.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked up at his mom. She smiled sadly at him. "It's not your fault, Matthew. He hid it from everyone."

The Canadian sighed again. "He did, but we still- I should have done something sooner, I knew something was wrong-"

"We should go see him now." said Arthur. His voice sounded dead, his eyes dull green. No one protested and they followed the doctor to Alfred's room. Mrs. Jones turned to Matthew and Arthur. Is it alright if us two go in first?" she asked. Matthew shrugged and Arthur nodded.

They came out ten minutes later. "He's not awake yet." said Mr. Jones. They nodded.

The American looked a hundred times more vulnerable, there in that hospital bed, with a feeding tube sticking out of his throat and an oxygen mask on his face. There was an IV attached to his wrist too.

Matthew sat down on Alfred's left side and took his bony hand. He remembered all the times Alfred would wave his hands around and shout about how heroic he was, and how much he needed a hamburger right now.

Those hands that hadn't held a hamburger in five months, probably.

Yes, it had been five months since the day Alfred had stormed out of the cafeteria, uneaten hamburger in the trash. Some animal at the dump had probably long since eaten its remains by now. Everything had gone downhill so quickly.

He glanced at his brother. He could only hope things would be alright.

"Alfred? Can you hear me, love?" whispered Arthur, taking Alfred's other hand. Cerulean eyes fluttered briefly before opening completely. He couldn't quite talk with the feeding tube, however. So he nodded slightly.

Matthew released a breath and narrowed his eyes. Ever since Alfred had been admitted yesterday he had been a ball of stress, pacing, ripping his hair out- and he had been holding in his anxiety and worry. Right now, he needed to let off some steam.

"Alfred Fucking Jones. When you're out of this hospital, I swear I'm going to personally make you wish you were back in here, you asshole." He snarled, squeezing his brother's hand. Alfred winced, but Matthew paid no mind.

"Do you have any idea at all how fucking scared I was? I walked in on you- _and you looked like you were fucking dead. _I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" he shouted, which was really just a normal talking voice.

Alfred kept his eyes downcast, seeming to accept every word without complaint.

Matthew calmed down a bit. "Look, I'm sorry, but please. Why?" he asked, back to his soft voice. Alfred looked at Arthur for help and the Brit shook his head. "You hid it entirely from us Alfred, we have no idea. You need to be prepared to explain it to us when you're out of that feeding tube." He said.

Alfred nodded.

Matthew watched them look into each other's eyes for a moment and felt like he was intruding on something private.

"Well," he cleared his throat and stood up, giving his brother's hand one last squeeze, "I'm going to go get some lunch." And he left.

"Alfred," began Arthur. "There's- ah- something that I-uh… I want to tell you…"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Arthur to continue.

"Well- seeing you… like this… makes me wish I told you sooner- maybe I could have stopped this from coming so far." He cleared his throat. "And, well- you and I have been best friends for a while now- and- uh-

"IloveyouAlfred." He said in one breath. Alfred blinked and cocked his head, confused. Arthur sighed.

"Err- right. I said that I love you."

There was a moment of silence, in which Arthur's face became increasingly redder. "I understand, that is, if you don't- feel the same- mmph!"

Alfred, using the last of his strength, ripped off the oxygen mask and pulled Arthur down for a kiss.

A moment later they broke apart. Arthur pressed his forehead to Alfred's and looked him squarely in the eye.

"We'll get through this, Alfred. I love you no matter what, you sodding git. You are beautiful. Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise."

And for once, Alfred believed him.


	2. PruCan

**A/N: There will be about 12 chapters in total, updated every month on the fifteenth- except next month I can't update. All November I will be on hiatus in order to participate in National Novel Writing Month. For anyone interested, my user name on there is P. I. Ainsley. (Not the Young Writers website)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**(By the way, this takes place a looonnng time before Alfred's anorexia problem.)(I changed my mind on the chapter schedule above. And also every 'chapter' is now going to be about 3 chapters a story and 1000 words a chapter.)**

Gilbert woke up first. "So not awesome," he muttered, feeling the wires hooked up to him. He sat up, careful not to disrupt them, and glanced around. Of course, he was in the hospital, much the same as the past two fucking weeks. "Ugh." He flopped down on his bed, ignoring the sharp pang of his IV. "Thought I wasn't supposed to wake up," he said quietly, slightly awed. That must mean they found him a donor. He glanced to the bed on his left.

A lump with blond hair was sleeping there, motionless. She was very pretty, even by Gilbert's standards. Her golden wavy hair framed a thin yet soft-looking face. An unruly ahoge curved out from her head in front of her face, rising and falling in time to her breathing. It was one of the cutest things Gilbert had ever seen. She was rather flat-chested from his perspective, but he had lots of experience in the lady department and so knew you could never get a perfectly balanced woman. Nice face; flat chest. Nice rack; flat ass. Nice ass; bad face. He could never win.

Gilbert was content to stare at her a little while until her face contorted in pain. She began to cough in her sleep- deep, racking, throat-cutting coughs. He winced in sympathy and was about to call for a nurse when they all came bursting through his door, flocking around the girl.

"He seems to have a build up of phlegm in his throat," murmured a nurse in a pink outfit. Gilbert did a double take. Wait, _him?!_

Nuh uh, he heard wrong. That beautiful girl- boy- was just- no. No. But then again, why would they room together a boy and a girl? Surely the hospital wasn't that full. One of the nurses sort of standing next to him noticed he was awake and smiled warmly. "Ah, Mr. Beilscmidt! How good to see you are awake!"

He cringed slightly at the mutilating accent. His poor, poor last name. "Ja." he said, still trying to peer around the cluster of nurses to see his neighbor's bed. "Is that my donor?" he asked. The nurse nodded.

"Yes, that is Matthew Williams. When we were searching again in our records for a potential donor we found him- the second time! He was immediately willing to operate as soon as possible."

The other nurses slowly began to disperse; Matthew rested comfortably.

"How- how did the surgery go?" he asked hesitantly. "He'll be alright?" He wondered why he was more concerned about Matthew than himself at the moment. The nurse smiled again. "The transfer was quite successful. There was a minor complication regarding Mr. Williams, but he'll be just fine." she assured him. "My name is nurse-" Gilbert didn't catch that- "but you can call me Tina if you can't pronounce it." she said happily.

"Nice to meet you. What kind of complications?"

"Ah, well, while Dr. Bondevik was removing Matthew's kidney, he slipped ever so slightly and cut into his lung. We needed more blood ASAP and wala, you and him happened to be a match. You saved each other's lives." said Tina.

"So... parts of me are like, inside of him?" asked Gilbert, making the nurse laugh. It reminded him of bells.

"Well, yes, I guess you could say it like that." she agreed. The boy next to them, Matthew, began to stir. He rolled over so he was facing Gilbert.

MATTHEW'S POV

He blinked quite a few times, the light was much too bright, and when he finally managed to focus, the first thing he saw was a shock of white hair, crimson eyes, and a big shit-eating grin. "Alfred?" he muttered, not knowing why the Cheshire cat was here, nor why it was albino, nor-

"Well, good afternoon, kleiner Piepmatz*." chuckled the pale boy. Matthew blinked again. He couldn't understand what he had just said- was it in German or something?

"Where am I?" he said wearily. His abdomen ached something terrible and every breath hurt.

"You're in the hospital, Mr. Williams." said Tina gently. She began to check his IV, though it had been checked a few minutes ago by the group of nurses.

"Oh." was all the Canadian said. He looked back to the red-eyed man and blushed when he realized he was already being looked at.

"Hallo! I am the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt, at your service! I'm 25% Prussian and 100% percent awesome!" he said cheerily. (Some people would have considered it obnoxiously, but Matthew lived long enough with his twin brother to know the difference.) He winced anyway; not ready for loud noises yet.

"O-oui, enchanté, Gilbert. Je m'appelle Mathieu Williams." said Matthew lazily.

"What the hell was that? You're going to have to speak English or mein awesome language if you want to be friends with the awesome me." reprimanded Gilbert. Matthew frowned. "Quoi? Je parle inglais, quelles sont tu- oh. Je regrette- I mean, sorry. Sometimes I do that without realizing it." he apologized. Then he remembered what Gilbert had really just said. "Wait, what? Friends?"

"Ja, why not?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, that's right, you don't know yet..." He then explained to Matthew the donation and blood transfusion. Tina slipped outside as the duo chatted, smiling quietly to herself. She went up to her husband Berwald, the receptionist, and kissed him on the cheek, pleased when he blushed slightly.

"Another successful day, Su-san." she sighed happily, wrapping her arms around his broad torso.

"Mmhmm," he said, which in Berwald-speak is, "Excellent."

"And Matthew looks like he might be on the way to recovery, more than just physically, with Mr. Beilscmidt around. Did you see the scars on his arms?" she asked, concerned now. "Yep." said Berwald.

"I wondered why eh volunteered to give an organ when he knew we'd see. Perhaps a plea for a attention?"

"I s'pose so."

"Well, we'll see what happens."

"Sure."

**A/N: Next chapter, Gilbert and Matthew become closer, and funny shit happens involving an angry Berwald, a high Gilbert, and a confused Ludwig.**

**Translations:**

**kleiner Piepmatz= little birdie, German, cliche, I know.**

**Oui, enchanté, Gilbert. Je m'appelle Mathieu Williams.= Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Gilbert. I'm Matthew Williams.**

**Quoi? Je parle inglais, quelles sont tu- oh. Je regrette.= What? I speak English, what are you- oh. I'm sorry.**

**Again, I didn't use Google for most of this, but if there is a mistake, please tell me!**


	3. PruCan II

**A/N: Last update until December~! Also if you're wondering why I made Finland a female it's because a lot of the SuFin fics I've read make him a total mothering pussy. So I making "her" a total mothering pussy. Also I don't care if Tina isn't a Finnish name, it's easier nfor you guys to remember who she is, kay?**

**It's weird writing such a happy scene when I promised myself in the summary it wasn't gonna be happy, but I'm listening to Whitney Houston right now, so shut up.**

**I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

*TWO WEEKS OR SO LATER*

Gilbert was bouncing on his toes anxiously. He had been stuck in this hellhole for two weeks longer than he wanted too. Today he got out. Matthew was laughing quietly.

"You remind me of Alfred when we're in drive-thru at McDonald's." he giggled (a Manada giggle, mind you.) Gilbert frowned and stuck his tongue out childishly. "Shut up. Don't compare me to someone I haven't met yet."

Tina came in then, holding in a smile at the sight of the two boys. She remembered how back in high school Elizaveta Hedervary would squeal when a male homosexual couple walked past. Tina wondered how her marriage with Roderich was going, and if she ever got that job as a coach. "You have visitors, Gilbert. They'll be taking you home today."

"Awesome!" he fist pumped the air, then winced. "Dammit, can you take the stupid needle out now?"

The Fin smiled. "Not yet. Dr. Bondevik still hasn't checked you out of the hospital." Gilbert pouted.

"Okay, let mein awesome visitors in." For the duration of their stay, neither Gilbert nor Matthew had been allowed visitors. They were told it was something about not overexciting them. Tina knew the truth. Dr. Bondevik didn't want them coming in while Matthew was asleep and notice the scars on his arms. Asking questions would certainly upset the Canadian and possibly slow down his recovery. And as for Gilbert, it wouldn't be fair if he got visitors and Matthew didn't, so it had been just the two of them for a while now.

In walked a tall blond guy with piercing blue eyes. His hair went down to his ass and his face was stony. "Oh, hallo, Vatti. Long time no see, eh?" said Gilbert. It was then Matthew saw Gilbert as his father must have seen him. Pale, pale skin, circles under crimson eyes, messy white hair, and a thin bony frame. He definitely looked better than when Matthew first woke up to him, but he still looked like absolute crap.

Another two people came in, a boy-man who looked exactly like his father, only with shorter, slicked-back hair, and he was holding a smaller child, only about five. This young one was also blond and his eyes were a shade darker than Gilbert's father and other brother. Gilbert blinked in surprise.

"Lutz, Leo, you two came also?" he asked. His dad snorted. "Of course they came." his voice was a deep baritone; similar to Dr. Oxenstierna's. "Ja, why wouldn't we, bruder?" asked the small one, Leo. He was adorable, Matthew cooed mentally.

"No reason, it's just that i's the middle of the day and you come so unexpectedly..." he trailed off. Lutz (strange name, thought Matthew) raised an eyebrow. "East, it's Saturday. You know that, right?" he asked, with an equally rich, deep voice as his dad. Matthew wondered why Gil's family was so... Aryan.

The albino frowned. "What? Really? It seems so much... later. Like I've been here forever, just me and my little bird." he said, nodding to Matthew.

Instantly all three sets of clear blue eyes were on him and he felt himself go red to the roots of his hairline. "Um... hi!" he squeaked, making his voice sound about three octaves higher than normal.

"Hello, I am Hans Beilschmidt. These are my other two sons, Ludwig and Leonard." said the eldest, pointing to each person as their name was said.

"Gilly, is she your girlfriend?" Leo asked innocently. The albino grinned when Matthew flushed brighter. "Nein, _she's _not my girlfriend."

"Gilbert!" hissed Matthew, mortified.

"Oh, stop embarrassing her, East." said Ludwig, although there was a hint of amusement in his cerulean eyes.

"C'mon, Mattie, I'm just playing." laughed Gilbert. "This is Matthew Williams, who oh-so-graciously donated a kidney to save my life."

"Whoa, bruder said a big word!" said Leo happily. "Indeed," muttered Hans.

"W-we knew that, Gil..." blushed Ludwig, suddenly awkward-ized by mistaking Matthew for a girl as Leo had done. Gilbert nodded seriously. "Mattie's been the only one keeping me company these past two weeks and I ain't complaining if that's what you mean, Leo.

"We had a good time, getting needles changed together, taking a-" a stern glare from Ludwig- "shower together, nurses being all shameless with our bodies, and not to mention Mattie got my blood donation- now we're inside each other! Kesesesese~!" cackled Gilbert, relishing in the small smiles cracked on his relative's face. He was usually the only one able to make them smile.

"Really," he continued, "Mattie's great, Vatti, she cleaned up nicely and has a wicked sense of humor. Plus she's really smart!" he added. Matthew frowned.

"She? I'm a dude, Gil." he reminded him, blushing hotly.

"Oh, really bruder?" Leo said, wide-eyed. He didn't hear what Matthew had said. "Put me down, Luddy!" he commanded in a childishly adorable voice, tapping Ludwig on the shoulder for emphasis.

"Don't jump on him." warned Ludwig, complying so Leo could got trot up to Matthew and peer closely at him. "You're pretty! I hope Gilly marries you so you can be my auntie!" he declared.

"Leonard!" scolded Hans, who had taken residence in the chair by the window. Ludiwg sat at the foot of Gilbert's bed.

"O-oh, well, that would be nice and all, b-but-"

"Mattie's already your auntie, Leo!" said Gilbert, trying not to succumb to his laughter. He knew he'd probably go through hell for it later, but right now he could care less. The small child's eyes lit up. "Really? Oh, wow!" he ignored what Ludwig had said not moments before and jumped up on Matthew's bed. he looked into the Canadian's purple eyes with his own and smiled brightly, revealing two missing front teeth. "Auntie Mattie, you should come over for wurst one day! Luddy prepares the best wurst and Vatti is great with the-"

"I'm sorry!" interrupted Matthew in a shrill voice. He really didn't want to dash this kid's hopes of having him as an aunt, maybe he'd accept him as an uncle instead?

"Ah, Mr. Beilschmidt, Dr. Bondevik's ready to check Gilbert out," said Tina, who just came back in.

"Excellent," said Hans, getting up. Tina walked over and removed the needle from Gilbert's wrist. "Bye, Gil, it's been great having you here." She then fixed him with a stern look. "I hope to never have to see you here again."

Gilbert gulped and nodded, standing up. "Bye Mattie, so you in school. Come on Leo." he said, picking up his littlest bro off the bewildered Matthew.

"B-but!" he protested.

"Good bye, Mr. Williams. Thank you for everything." said Hans genuinely. Matthew smiled at him. Leo shouted, "Bye auntie!"

And then the Beilschmidts left, Matthew being forced to realize he had not once thought of cutting in the past two weeks with Gilbert.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter- some Mattie-Gilbert friendship bonding stuff.**


End file.
